


joy (when you call me)

by tamerofdarkstars



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes
Genre: Chrom knows what's up, Feelings Realization, Gender-Neutral Summoner | Eclat | Kiran, M/M, Other, Someone tell Alfonse it's ok to relax
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:55:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22305295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamerofdarkstars/pseuds/tamerofdarkstars
Summary: “I should have listened to you,” Alfonse said, looking down at his shoes. “What kind of king will I be if I cannot see past my own foolish pride?”Kiran sighed. “A magnificently stubborn one, I’m sure.”
Relationships: (side/referenced), Alfonse/Summoner | Eclat | Kiran, Chrom/My Unit | Reflet | Robin
Comments: 3
Kudos: 119





	joy (when you call me)

**Author's Note:**

> ah, so this is where my 2020 is beginning - with me writing fanfiction for a mobile game. it's gonna be a good decade, folks, i can feel it in my bones
> 
> title is from bastille's song "joy"

The shadows seemed to cling to him as Alfonse crept through the underbrush, his eyes on the target ahead and Folkvangr steady in his hand. He paused, barely feet from the enemy, holding his breath as the man scanned the clearing.

This had been a good route. The enemy had no idea he was there. As usual, Kiran had been right.

The now familiar warmth spread through him, both strange and not-strange as Kiran spoke directly into his mind.

_Be careful. There are two more directly to your left. Both swordwielders, although one looks to have better armor. Wait for the one in front of you to continue his patrol, then move._

Damn. Alfonse let out his breath carefully, shifting his weight to the balls of his feet, and waited. Sure enough, moments later the soldier grunted softly, lowered his sword and headed out of the clearing deeper into the forest. Alfonse waited a beat before taking the opportunity and slipping through the clearing towards the trees.

The first time he’d felt Kiran during a skirmish, Alfonse had nearly shrieked and given away their position. He’d never felt another mind against his own before and the alien nature of it was so unnerving that Alfonse had felt like spiders were racing up and down his spine for hours afterwards. Kiran, for their part, was incredibly apologetic about the whole thing.

“I don’t know how it works _,”_ they’d said, frowning from beneath the large hood they wore to shield their face. “If it makes you feel better, I can’t hear your thoughts. Only what you’re feeling, a bit, and anything you say directly back to me.”

Alfonse had spent many evenings with Kiran in the Askr library, searching for an answer, but they had come up frustratingly short.

Anna waved away their concerns, annoyingly blasé about the entire situation.

“It probably just has something to do with the legendary weapon,” she’d said with a shrug. “I wouldn’t worry.”

So Alfonse didn’t. Much.

_Stop!_

Alfonse froze. Lost in his thoughts, he’d nearly walked directly into an encampment of enemy archers, seated around a fire, their voices low rumbles as they talked.

_Pay attention,_ snapped Kiran and Alfonse gritted his teeth. Kiran was right; that had been careless.

_Sorry,_ he thought, pushing the thought in Kiran’s direction. After a moment warmth filled him, sweeping through him to the tips of his fingers. Alfonse bit back on a grin and took stock of the enemies ahead.

Archers, two of them, their bows strung and ready. After a moment, one of them nodded to the other and stole off through the trees, leaving the other behind to watch over the campfire.

_Alright. Stay put for a moment. I don’t like the looks of--_

_I can take him out_ , Alfonse interrupted, tightening his grip on Folkvangr. It was simple – one enemy ahead, apparently unaware of his presence. Seemed easy enough.

Alfonse was unprepared for the wave of fear that bolted through him, crashing into his mind from Kiran’s like an avalanche.

_No!_ came Kiran’s voice in his head, but Alfonse just frowned, shaking his head. Kiran was a tactician without equal, certainly, but it was just one archer. Alfonse could take him out and improve their position at the same time.

_He doesn’t see me, Kiran_ , he replied and crept forward through the grass.

_Alfonse, stop!_

But Alfonse ignored them, his heart in his throat, his blood pulsing steady in his ears and took another step forward, just up to the edge of the clearing.

Suddenly the archer whirled around, facing him, and Alfonse barely had a chance to snap his hand up in a block before the arrow was pinging off the blade of his sword.

“Gotcha, little princeling,” sneered the archer and Alfonse’s heart sank as he spotted what he’d missed before – the second archer hadn’t left the clearing. He’d moved to his left, hidden in the shadows, bow drawn back and an ugly, triumphant grin stretching his face.

There was no time. Alfonse sucked in a breath and lunged, sweeping Folkvangr upwards and forcing the first archer back.

_Kiran,_ he thought desperately, but the summoner was silent, their presence against his mind faint. Alfonse bit down on his lower lip – a habit he’d been striving to break – and stood his ground.

The first archer drew his bow and let fly an arrow, nimble fingers already leaping to his quiver to draw another. Alfonse dove to the side, but his movements felt clumsy, limbs deadened by panic. He raised his head and locked eyes with the second archer just in time to see him loose an arrow straight for his chest.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl. No. He couldn’t die here, here to a stupid arrogant misstep. He had so much to _do…_ a kingdom to protect and people who were counting on him.

A flash of emotion twisted hard in the pit of his stomach and he gripped Folkvangr, dragging it upwards to block but he was slow, so slow, too slow.

He was going to die. Kiran was going to be livid.

A roaring wave of heat suddenly swept through Alfonse as Kiran’s presence came crashing back into his mind as though summoned by the mere thought of their name.

_Go!_ his summoner roared.

A flash of light temporarily blinded him – there was a sharp ding of steel against steel and when Alfonse’s vision cleared it was to see his sister standing tall in front of him, Fensalir catching the thin rays of the forest sunshine as she blocked the blow for him.

Sharena lunged for the first archer, a snarl twisting her usually cheerful features as the light flashed again, and the second archer fell with a howl.

Princess Fjorm stepped from the shadows behind the fallen enemy, her expression grave.

“Sharena,” said Alfonse, but his sister spun on him, expression thunderous.

“Are you out of your mind?” she demanded, and the pain in her voice hurt more than the dents his pride had suffered by far. Alfonse winced.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and meant it. He sheathed Folkvangr as Sharena crossed the clearing and hooked an arm around his neck, dragging him in for a tight embrace. Alfonse gave his sister a squeeze, the fading adrenaline putting a tremble in his fingers.

“Thank you for the rescue,” he said when they had separated. He looked to Princess Fjorm, who inclined her head with a small smile.

“Kiran let us know of the situation rather quickly,” she said and Alfonse’s heart thumped. Right. He owed one more person an apology.

He felt tentatively for Kiran’s presence against his mind, but before he could apologize, Kiran was already speaking.

_Good work. Fall back – the forest is clear and it’s growing dark. We’ll camp for the night and move out in the morning_.

The words had a faint echo to them this time, and Alfonse knew that Sharena and Fjorm had heard the same thing he had.

_Kiran_ , Alfonse thought, but Kiran’s presence against his mind faded away to nothing, leaving Alfonse alone again in his own head.

That hadn’t been such a lonely place, once.

Heart sinking, Alfonse pressed his lips together and followed Sharena and Fjorm out of the clearing.

-

They were the last to return, having been the vanguard of the excursion into the forest, and the camp had mostly been set for the night. Anna was working with Prince Chrom of Ylisse on erecting the last tent, and Alfonse could see Princess Sakura of Hoshido bent over a large cooking pot, tasting the meal on the end of a long wooden spoon.

Kiran stood in the middle of it all, directing traffic. Usually by this point they’d thrown back their hood, allowing the Heroes to catch a glimpse of their face as they relaxed for the evening, but tonight Kiran hadn’t moved to touch the heavy fabric that hung over their eyes.

Alfonse looked Kiran up and down quickly. No apparent injuries. The guilt at his stupid, prideful mistake weighed heavily on his shoulders and he shifted to his other foot, wishing he could step in and pull Kiran aside immediately.

It was... not an unfamiliar urge. He found he often wished to pull Kiran aside, out of the scrutiny of the rest of the camp. Alfonse had grown to enjoy the quiet conversations alone with Kiran – the amusement in their voice whenever Alfonse managed to tease out a smile.

Kiran had passed out once, dead asleep with their face pressed to the page of their book, and Alfonse had reached forward without thinking, barely realizing that he meant to brush stray hairs back out of their eyes until he was already doing it.

His fingers had felt warm for hours afterwards.

Kiran clapped their hands for attention. “Nice work today,” they said, and the camp quieted to listen. “Tomorrow we will continue through the forest and come out the other side. As of this afternoon, the enemy camps were disbanded. We should be clear to move at dawn.” Kiran looked around at all of them. Alfonse held his breath as their eyes fell on him, then let it out again when Kiran looked past him to Fjorm and Sharena.

“I’ll take first watch and wake relief at midnight,” Kiran said. There was a murmur around the camp, but it was Chrom who spoke up.

“Kiran, have you slept at all? You took most of the watch shift last night.”

Kiran winced and Sharena stepped forward. “Chrom is right, Kiran. You need to rest the same as any of us.”

Kiran pursed their lips but said nothing. Princess Sakura stepped forward, dusting her hands on the edge of her dress, and put one small, thin hand on the crook of Kiran’s elbow. At her touch, the fight sagged from Kiran’s shoulders and they sighed.

“You’re right,” they admitted, rolling a shoulder back. “I can’t expect you all to do something I’m not willing to do myself.”

Chrom caught Alfonse’s eye and shot him a commiserating smile, like they were both in on some grand secret. Alfonse didn’t return the smile, confused. “I’ll take the first watch,” Chrom said, getting to his feet with a grunt. He held up a hand and Kiran took it, jumping off the stump they’d been using as a soapbox.

“We’ll handle it,” Sakura murmured. “Get some rest, Kiran.”

Kiran smiled at her, nodding, and the camp broke out into murmurs as Kiran slipped out of the knot of Heroes. Sharena raised a hand and after a moment, Kiran veered towards them.

“Sharena,” Kiran said. “Fjorm. Alfonse. You’re alright.”

“We got there just in time,” Sharena said. She put a hand on Alfonse’s shoulder. “Your warning was in time.”

“Good,” Kiran said softly and Alfonse couldn’t take it a moment longer.

“Kiran, I--”

But Kiran held up a hand. “What’s done is done, Alfonse. You’re alright. That’s what’s important.”

“Kiran, listen,” Alfonse started but Kiran just shook their head.

“Like I said--”

But Alfonse would not be swayed. Not in this. Not now. “Kiran,” he snapped, and stepped forward, grabbing the summoner’s hand in his. “Listen to me, please.”

Kiran looked startled. Their hand was warm, almost hot, where Alfonse was gripping it. Alfonse felt his heart skip. “Please,” he said, voice dropping.

Behind him, Alfonse was dimly aware of Sharena touching Fjorm’s hand, gesturing for the other princess to follow her, allowing him and Kiran some space.

Finally, Kiran sighed. “Let’s… come over here.”

Alfonse followed Kiran towards the edge of the clearing, noticing that Kiran still had yet to release his hand. They stopped where they were unlikely to be overheard, standing beneath the wide boughs of a fir tree. Kiran faced him, finally releasing his hand and letting it fall back to his side.

Alfonse ignored the chill in his fingertips and fixed his friend with a steady gaze. Kiran’s expression was case in shadow, difficult to read beneath their hood, but their lips were tilted down in a faint frown. “Alfonse, I already told you--”

“Kiran, I’m sorry,” Alfonse interrupted and Kiran fell silent. Alfonse sighed, reaching up and raking his fingers through his hair, shoving it up out of his eyes. He’d need a haircut soon, before his bangs became a hindrance on the battlefield. “That was foolish and dangerous.”

“Yes, it was,” snapped Kiran, and Alfonse looked at him, startled at the sudden burst of emotion in Kiran’s voice.

“I should have listened to you,” Alfonse said, looking down at his shoes. “What kind of king will I be if I cannot see past my own foolish pride?”

Kiran sighed. “A magnificently stubborn one, I’m sure.” They reached up and pinched the bridge of their nose, squeezing their eyes shut for a moment before sweeping their hand up and throwing back their hood.

Alfonse looked up quickly, catching sight of the expression on Kiran’s face. Kiran looked exhausted, mouth turned down at the corners in a tiny frown. An urge rose up in Alfonse to sit Kiran down somewhere, wrap them in a blanket and shove a bowl of something hot into their hands.

Instead he kept his hands firmly at his sides. “Undoubtedly,” he said, trying to smile.

A ghost of a smile flickered across Kiran’s face. “That at least we can agree on.”

Alfonse sighed. “We agree on far more than that, generally.”

Kiran’s expression softened and they reached forward and hooked two fingers around Alfonse’s wrist. Alfonse went still.

“And we still do,” Kiran said quietly. “That has not changed. I’m not angry with you, Alfonse. I was just…”

“Disappointed?” Alfonse guessed but Kiran didn’t look away and the joke, feeble as it was, fell flat into the dirt.

“Terrified,” Kiran said quietly and the air left Alfonse’s lungs in a rush. He bit down on his lower lip.

“I find it difficult to imagine you being afraid of anything,” he said and Kiran snorted.

“Every time I send you all into battle it is alongside the fear that one of my decisions will send you to your grave,” they said. Carefully, they twisted their hand and moved their thumb until it pressed gently against Alfonse’s pulse point. Alfonse’s heart kicked up a fraction and embarrassment curled behind his ribcage – surely, Kiran could feel his heartbeat pulsing fast against their thumb.

But Kiran wasn’t looking at him; instead their gaze was focused on their joined hands. “I thought today was going to be the day I felt your mind go dark,” they said and Alfonse could not help himself. He stepped forward, breaking Kiran’s grip and put both hands on their shoulders.

“You will not,” Alfonse said firmly and Kiran snorted, a smile finally _finally_ blooming on their face.

“You cannot promise that,” they said, but Alfonse did not waver.

“I can and I am,” he declared, feeling strangely un-moored. How could it be, that he felt as though he were floating when he knew his feet were firmly on the ground? “I swear I will not leave you to fight this battle alone. Death herself...” he faltered. Kiran was staring at him, a strange look on their face. “Death herself will have a difficult time holding me if I know that you are waiting on the other side,” he said, quieter now.

Kiran blinked. They looked oddly flushed, as though they’d spent long hours training outdoors on the hottest days of the year. Alfonse swallowed.

Then, Kiran shook their head, their smile going tinier, more private. As though it were a smile for Alfonse and Alfonse alone. “See, you say things like that in that voice with that look on your face and I could almost stand here and be convinced that you could wrestle Death to the ground and emerge triumphant.”

Their eyes flicked up, meeting Alfonse’s gaze, and abruptly Alfonse realized just how close they were standing. It would take very little effort on his part to tighten his grip on Kiran’s shoulders, to step in closer, to slip his hands from Kiran’s shoulders to cradle their face instead…

Alfonse’s eyes dropped to Kiran’s mouth.

For a moment everything faded away – there were no duties, no kingdom, no war. Just Alfonse and Kiran, standing together with tension strung out between them.

“Alfonse—” Kiran began, hesitant, and Alfonse suddenly remembered where they were, who they were. He released Kiran’s shoulders and stepped backwards, forcing himself to meet Kiran’s eyes.

Kiran’s hand hung suspended between them for a moment, awkward, and Alfonse realized Kiran had reached for him, had been reaching for him just as he’d stepped away.

Was— was Kiran going to…?

Kiran pulled their hand back. “Get some sleep, Alfonse,” they said, reaching back and pulling their hood up. The heavy fabric fell over their eyes, casting their face in shadow and Alfonse felt as though he’d just let something extremely important slip through his fingers.

Kiran turned away and headed back into the camp, leaving Alfonse standing beneath the tree. He closed his eyes briefly, frustrated with himself. There were far more important things at stake than this, he knew that. Why then did he feel so desolate the moment Kiran turned away from him?

“That part never gets easier, from what I understand.”

Alfonse opened his eyes. Prince Chrom stood beside the tree, eyes on Kiran’s retreating back. He looked at Alfonse, smiling kindly.

“Which part?” Alfonse asked and Chrom nodded towards Kiran.

“Sending the people you love into battle and praying desperately that your choices do not see them slaughtered.” He shrugged. “My tactician spent many a night lying awake beside me back in Ylisse. He thought, I’m sure, that I did not notice but...” he shrugged one shoulder, a half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I have long been attuned to his moods. Plus, he snores and I find it difficult now to sleep without the incessant noise.”

Chrom smiled, inviting Alfonse in on the joke, but Alfonse merely frowned, confused. “I… do not understand. Your tactician? You are not speaking of Kiran, I presume.”

Chrom shook his head. “Oh no. You have not met him, I’m afraid.” His expression dimmed and he looked away, out over the camp. Alfonse followed his gaze to where Kiran was speaking quietly to Anna, arms folded across their chest. He watched them for a moment, lingering on the exhaustion slumping the lines of their shoulders.

“Every time Kiran’s weapon sounds I cannot help but pray that I see Robin stumbling through that light and into our clearing. It is selfish, I know, to hope that he is pulled from our world into Askr, but...” Chrom trailed off and there was a beat of silence.

Alfonse was confused. Why was Chrom telling him this? Typically the Heroes opened up to Sharena or Kiran like this, not Alfonse. “That must be difficult,” he said, “to be so far from someone you care about.”

Chrom smiled slightly. “Well. I suppose I just want you to know that I understand your position.”

“My position?” Alfonse asked.

Chrom shrugged. “That you are not the only one to have fallen in love with your tactician.”

Alfonse was struck speechless. “I...” he said, hearing how strangled his voice had become as his heart burned against his breastbone. “Prince Chrom, that’s...”

Chrom held up a hand. “No need to explain yourself to me,” he said quietly. “I just wanted you to be aware you have an ally, Prince Alfonse. You may feel like you need to hold yourself apart, but I hope you know in your heart of hearts that you are not truly alone.”

He clapped a hand on Alfonse’s shoulder and squeezed once, a firm gesture, before stepping away and heading back into the camp proper, leaving Alfonse reeling beneath the line of fir trees.

He pressed a hand to his chest, as if that might contain the roaring of his heart, and looked around to see if any of the other Heroes had overheard Chrom’s words.

But no, he was alone beneath the trees, his crisis private.

He looked up across the clearing towards the camp and his eyes snagged again on Kiran, just in time to see them dissolve into laughter, their hand hovering in front of their face.

Alfonse caught his breath.

Oh. Oh, so that… so that’s what this was.

Terror flooded him followed swiftly by a strange burning embarrassment – if Prince Chrom had seen what even Alfonse had not realized, how much more obvious was it to the rest of the army? To his sister, who knew him better than anyone else? To Kiran?

As if Alfonse had shouted their name across the clearing, Kiran turned their head with a frown, looking back over their shoulder directly at him. Their eyes locked and Kiran raised a questioning eyebrow.

_Are you ok? I felt… something._

The words were cool, balm against a burn, water on a scorching day against his mind and Alfonse both sank into it and tried desperately to hold himself apart.

_Fine,_ he thought back. _Don’t worry._

Kiran studied him for a moment longer, disbelief clear on their face, but after a moment Alfonse felt their mind retract and they turned away from him, back to their conversation with Sharena and Fjorm.

He tried to breathe, to quell the racing in his heart, and swallowed.

At the end of the day, it didn’t matter what Alfonse wanted. He needed to keep his head on straight – for Askr, for his people, and for their comrades in the Order looking to him to lead them.

He had to stay focused. He had to stay determined. He had to stay--

“Alfonse!”

Sharena was grinning, hurrying across the clearing towards him. She caught his hand in hers’ as she had so many times before, linking their fingers.

“Come here, you have to try the stew that Sakura made! She said it is a specialty in her homeland of Hoshido.”

Alfonse looked at his sister for a moment and felt a wave of affection for her, for her smile and the clear, easy way she was excited about something as simple as a stew.

“I’m sure it’s delicious,” he said, his personal crises fading for a moment and Sharena shot him a playful grin.

“It’s gonna knock the armor right off your grumpy shoulders,” she teased and Alfonse rolled his eyes.

“I doubt any amount of stew would be _that_ \--” he began but Sharena cut him off, tugging him back into the camp, into the hustle and bustle of the Order members clamoring for the stew pot, passing bowls back and forth. Princess Sakura was a bright shade of pink, her hands clasped in front of her as the others heaped compliments on her through mouthfuls of food.

A warm bowl was pressed into his hands and he looked up into Kiran’s face. Kiran was smiling at him, their own bowl already mostly empty in their hands.

“Eat,” they said. “An order, from your summoner.”

Alfonse couldn’t help but chuckle, looking down into the stew. “You don’t have to order me to eat,” he began, looking back up. The conversation around them swelled and flowed, warm and familiar. Kiran snorted.

“Sure, sure, as if you have never worked through the night without a break.”

“Those were important things that needed doing!” Alfonse protested and Kiran laughed.

“Of course, of course,” they said, patting him on the shoulder. Before Alfonse could react to the sweet burn of their touch, Kiran was already moving away, moving easily through the Heroes, the very glue that seemed to bond their Order together.

Alfonse watched them go for a moment, fingers warm where he clung to his bowl of stew. He tore his eyes away and happened to catch the eye of Prince Chrom across the way again. Chrom was watching him, a faint grin playing on his face, and Alfonse jerked his gaze back to his stew, feeling his ears burn.

He crammed a heaping spoonful into his mouth, and then another. At least, he figured, if his mouth were full he would have an excuse not to put a voice to the burning thoughts tumbling against his skull.


End file.
